


Bewitched Again

by DickBaggins



Series: Bewitched!verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, F/M, Genderbend, Genderswap, M/M, Rule 63, Titty Fucking, Virginity, body transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone didn't read the fine print on the curse, and a month after Bewitched, Sam transforms into a super hot lady yet again. This time, Dean thinks he's better prepared. Thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bewitched Again

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Bewitched](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/32428) by Wren. 



Dean was dangerously close to blowing off research in favour of porn, again. It wasn't like he wasn't _trying_ , he even had the research tabs still open in his browser, had a pen in his hand instead of his dick but he just kept straying away from the horribly formatted webpage to the equally bad formatting of the porn. Sam had been out for _hours_ interviewing people, checking out bodies, checking out the library. He couldn't have meant for Dean to research this _whole time_ , that was insane. No, Dean deserved a break. It wouldn't even be a long break, like, ten minutes. He was pretty sure. Maybe fifteen.

The clatter of plastic on clapboard made him jump, his phone flashing to life. Of course.

 _it happened again_ – was all the text said, from Sam. Dean's brow creased staring at it, and he tapped out his reply with a smirk and a shrug, standing up to leisurely pace the room, _maybe you should see a doctor_.

 _Not funny_ , a half minute later, _the curse_.

Dean scrunched his face up at the message, mouthing the words, trying to get his brain to go but it was kind of stuck on porno mode at the moment. Which, actually, helped him figure it out faster.

The _curse_.

Dean had to sit down again and puff out a long breath, slam the laptop closed and stare at his phone. Just a month ago, the _curse_ turned his brother into a seriously stacked woman. And it wasn't something Dean sat around just _thinking_ about but sometimes it all came back to him in a hot fast rush, Sam stumbling half-naked out of the bathroom and begging for his help. And if the curse was back...

Dean took a deep breath and tapped back, _need me?_ And waited an anxious minute for the reply. Sam was smart, he could figure this stuff out on his own – hell, he almost had last time. But Dean kind of hoped he'd get to help again, somehow.

Even inside, he heard the Impala careen into the parking lot, screech to a halt in the closest spot and then Sam texted him back, _I'm outside_.

_So come in_

_can't – clothes_

So presumably, his brother – his female-bodied brother - was sitting in the car, drowning in a too-big suit, probably angry as shit. Dean couldn't resist pulling the curtain aside and looking and, yes, funny how expressions looked the same on Sam's girl-face, although his jaw was tighter and his lips, pressed hard together, a little pinker and fuller. His face was already flushed, either embarrassment or he'd been trying to lift the curse himself, already.

And failed.

Dean felt his dick just starting to twitch to life, which was presumptuous of course, but why else would Sam have driven all the way back, unless he needed Dean's help again?

_Want me to bring clothes?_

_No we can drive and park_

_whoa moving kinda fast there, didn't think you were that kind of girl_

And Sam laid on the horn.

Dean sauntered out the door, pausing to lean in the driver's side window and flash a grin. “Hey, pretty lady.”

“Shut up,” Sam said through gritted teeth, hands flexing on the steering wheel and his – her? – eyes fixed straight ahead.

“You in any condition to drive?” Dean asked, glancing into the car and almost wishing he hadn't. Sam was absolutely swallowed up in the white button-up, had it done all the way up to his neck but it couldn't hide the perky curve of breasts underneath. And that was all in the way of clothes anyway, Dean noticed, his eyes lingering too long over Sam's tanned thighs peeking out from the too-big shirt. “Jesus, Sammy, move over,” Dean instructed, hand already grabbing the latch and tugging.

Sam glanced over, frowned even deeper and gathered the billowy shirt around him, sliding over to the passenger seat. It didn't matter how lady-like he tried to be, Dean still got an eyeful .

The seat underneath him was unmistakeably warm and just a tiny bit wet. Dean swore under his breath, shaking his head and glancing over at Sam. “You tried, huh?”

“Yes,” Sam grumbled, crossing his arms under his chest – and then over, since under popped the buttons out something fierce. But over was even worse and he settled for struggling with the seat-belt instead while Dean shot the car out of the parking lot. “I tried everything, I went slow, like you said. I thought about...stuff and-”

“Obviously got yourself wet.”

“Dean-”

“I'm just asking! Also you messed up my seat but I'm not even mad. Where we going?”

“Abandoned factory, turn left,” Sam pointed and hunched down in the seat. “That's where I parked.”

Dean nodded and tried to keep his eyes on the road but with such close quarters, he was starting to _smell_ Sam, to remember what he tasted like and his dick was pressing hard against his jeans. He grunted a little, adjusting himself and breathing out hard through his nose. “Long drive?”

“'Bout five minutes.”

“Good. Listen, you, uh, you don't need to stop what you were doing on my account.”

“Dean, I'm not masturbating in the car while you're driving.”

“You don't wanna lose it is all I'm saying. Like, the rhythm of it or whatever. All this stopping and starting can kinda mess a girl up.”

“...really?”

Dean shrugged, pursing his lips and looking over again. One of Sam's hands rested against his thigh, gripping hard, while the other raked through shaggy hair. “Yeah, man, totally. Makes it harder to get off if there isn't like, consistent action.”

Sam frowned at Dean, swore something low under his breath and squirmed against the leather seat. “I can wait.”

“I'm sure you _can_ but I'm saying you don't want to, not really. Now, I can drive with one hand if you're gonna be a prude, wouldn't be the first time, but-”

“ _God_ , I hate you,” Sam hissed out, slouching down in the seat. His right hand disappeared under the shirt's hem and a second later, his new, shapelier hips bucked up and off the seat.

It was a stop light, thank god, so Dean could watch. Not that there was much to see – the oversized shirt covered everything but flew up and down at a rapid pace. Too fast and Dean put his hand out over top, stilling Sam for a second. “What did I tell you?” Dean muttered. He clutched at Sam's hand – for once smaller and wasn't _that_ weird – and helped set a slower pace. Sam let out a shaky little breath and his head fell back against the seat, eyes drifting closed. “See, that's it, Sammy, that's better,” Dean licked his lips and watched, almost forgot they were even in a car until a horn sounded behind him. No telling how long that light had been green for.

He rammed the gas, kept his eyes peeled for somewhere faster to hide the car since five minutes was turning into something way too long. Hell, even a minute was too long with the soft whimpery noises Sam was making beside him, the quiet but unmistakeable wet slide of his hand against his pussy and the sex-smell permeating the car already. He still couldn't _see_ anything but he was sure if he could, he'd just pull over on the side of the road and get this shit over with.

And that wasn't _exactly_ his plan.

It was all too easy for the curse to break, just one orgasm and Sam would be back swinging pipe within a minute. But Dean wanted more this time, more than a quickie that left his face dripping wet. He'd wondered ever since the first time, - wondered futilely, he thought - about some of the other aspects of the curse. He was almost a little angry Sam had tried to get off him...herself. No matter, he was in control now. Mostly.

The driving got a little stop and go, maddeningly so. Dean swore and Sam muttered something that sounded like _rush hour_ , while his hand sped up again. Dean flashed his eyes over and grunted, had to push the heel of his hand against his suddenly-way-too-tight jeans for some kind of relief. “Slow it down, Sammy,” he warned, half growling and Sam complied with a little whimper. “How 'bout those tits, huh?”

“What?” Sam breathed out, head flopping over to blink lazily at Dean. “What about them?”

“You play with 'em at all or just go for home?”

“Home,” Sam half-gasped, half-laughed, but straightened his back up a little, following Dean's gaze to his chest, to his nipples poking through the sheer white shirt, and then he smirked at Dean. “You like 'em, huh?”

“Uh, yeah? You know what to do with 'em, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled and damned if that didn't sound sexy as hell coming from that long slim throat. Dean watched his hands glide over the smooth white fabric, the wet hand leaving a glistening stain as it grabbed and squeezed through the dress shirt. The traffic just started moving again when Sam started unbuttoning with one hand, the other pinching at a nipple through the shirt.

Dean filled his lungs with a shaky breath; he had to drive, he _wanted_ to watch Sam revealing his tits by slow degrees but he had to fucking drive a car. Still, he only needed one hand for that. He ducked one hand out to Sam's thigh, growled, “C'mere,” and yanked him over, tucked him under his arm and all too casually slid his free hand into Sam's shirt. He grasped teenage-clumsy for Sam's tits, so much more than a handful, so soft.

And responsive; Sam threw a leg over Dean's, burying his head in Dean's shoulder to muffle the moan. He pressed his palm against Dean's crotch and really, that was it.

Dean swerved the car into the next driveway – deserted open space, thank god - cut the engine and twisted, easily pinned Sam down against the front bench seat. It was nice, being able to manhandle Sammy for once. Nice that he could fit laying down in the front of the car, too. There was nothing demure or ladylike about it, the way Sam's legs splayed open on the seat, the shirt bunched up around his hips and falling off his broad shoulders. It _should_ have been more of a problem, probably, but they were usually knee deep in way weirder shit; this was turning into a vacation.

“Jesus, Sammy, this curse-”

“Yeah, I know, you fucking love it, come _on_ ,” Sam growled in that low husky voice and leaned forward, grabbed for Dean's head with his still-impressive reach and tugged him down, canting his curvy hips up at the same time.

Dean wanted to make some crack about how much Sam wanted it too, loved it, something like that, but the same could be said for him and he didn't wanna get into what any of that meant in detail. Not with Sam waiting and wanting and _writhing_ underneath him. He hooked his arms under Sam's legs, shouldered one leg onto the floor and tilted Sam's hips up just right. The weirdest shiver of arousal shot through Dean as he rearranged himself and buried his head in Sammy's cunt; this curse was _awesome_.

Sam was dripping, even his thighs slicked up and sticky. Dean gripped hard at his legs and started from the bottom in a long slow lick, Sam so wet and open under him that his tongue ended up halfway inside and even _that_ was a tight fit. Sam gasped in surprise, tried to arch up but Dean held him down, glancing up questioningly as his tongue dipped inside again, flicking around in teasing little thrusts. Sam _liked_ that, both hands tightening in Dean's hair, trying to shove him in further. But for all the muscles Sam had in that body, Dean was stronger; He propped himself up, wiped his face off with his shirt and threw it into the back seat.

“Gave you what you wanted last time, Sammy,” Dean said, face deadly serious but eyes alight as he climbed easily on top of Sam. Sam was trying, albeit not very hard, to back away, ending up propped against the window and that only made it easier. Dean had his knees on either side of Sam's chest and his belt in his fist, yanking it apart while he grabbed Sam's face with his other hand. He ran his thumb along Sam's lips and huffed out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. “This time, there's something I want. Funny how when you're a girl, those lips turn into the epitome of dick-sucking lips.”

Funny too, how Sam's cruel little smirk looked the same on either face. “Been thinking about it?” Sam asked, and licked his lips slow and deliberate.

“Fuck,” Dean moaned out, felt his dick leak before it was even out of his pants and then Sam's hand joined his in undoing his pants, joined and batted Dean's hand away. He stared up at Dean, nothing coy about the way he curled his fingers around Dean's dick and pulled him out of his pants.

Dean expected he'd have to do some kind of coaching or at the very least, a bit of persuading to get this far but from Sam's first lick, a slow drag of his tongue around Dean's head, it was fairly clear he knew what he was doing. _That_ made it worse, somehow, worse and better. Sam was all hungry eyes and fucking _expert_ mouth, tilting his head just so against the car door so he could close his mouth tight around most of Dean.

That would have been enough, really, more than Dean expected. His plan was unravelling into his brother's perfect mouth, had no choice against his swiping tongue. Dean grabbed a handful of Sam's hair, unchanged by his transformation. He tugged hard enough for Sam to look up at him again and that was a mistake. He choked back a moan to get his question out. “Where'd you learn to suck dick, Sammy?”

Sam slid his mouth up and off Dean's dick, curled it into that bitchy smirk again. “College.”

Dean watched his dick jump and drip against Sam's lips, biting back another moan. All he wanted, right then, was to fuck Sammy's mouth, shoot his load down his feminized brother's throat but he had a plan and that was not it. With a shuddering sigh he curled his hand around his shaft and slid his prick against his brother's lips, pulled on Sam's hair when he tried to suck the length into his mouth again. “Nuh-uh, Sammy,” Dean rasped, “Got something else I wanna do, so better get me all nice and wet, okay? Yeah, like that.”

Sam's eyes creased in concern but dutifully, he lapped all up and down Dean's prick, only pulling off for a second to ask, “What're you gonna do?”

Dean smirked and scooted back, settling further down Sam's chest. He bit at his lip, eyes travelling the long length of his brother's girl-body while his fingers took apart the last two buttons on the huge white shirt. Even laying down, Sam's tits made his dick jump again, rub wetly against his stomach. “God, Sam, your tits,” he trailed off and his hands closed around said tits, somehow defying gravity. He squished them together and shifted around, poked the fat head of his dick against the soft channel of his brother's tits and grinned. “Gonna fuck your tits, Sammy.”

Sam let out a shaky breath, his head clunking back against the window. “God, I thought you were gonna...I mean, I think it's...Dean, I think I'm like, a virgin again.”

Dean grunted and slid his wet dick further, watched the tip peak through the top of Sam's cleavage and disappear again. It had been a while since he'd found himself like this, but if anyone's tits deserved it, it was Sam's. Or the curse's. Whatever. He brushed his thumbs across Sam's dark nipples and felt them stiffen up even more, spilling a surprised gasp from Sam's mouth.

“Definitely got your cherry back, Sammy,” Dean said, breath just starting to pick up a hitch while he sped up his hips. “Even with my tongue in there, you felt all virginized. Real tight, y'know?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. He tilted his head, experimented with different angles until he got it, the perfect crane of his long neck to suck on the head of Dean's cock every time it popped out, leaving wet trails against Sam's chest, against his lips and chin. “Tried to get a finger in, before I texted you.”

Dean groaned and held a thrust against Sam's mouth, fucked against his lips in tiny little jerks. “And?”

Sam shook his head and stretched out an arm, curling his hand around his brother's busy hips. “Too tight, and the angle was all weird in the front seat, but uh, yeah. Virgin.”

“Not a bad thing,” Dean considered breathily. And they had time, totally enough time for Dean to get Sam all ready to take his dick for the first time. Just thinking about it, imaging the tight fit and the slow slide as he shoved his dick between his brother's tits again, it was enough to make him moan, to make his dick leak with want. “We can do that, Sammy, if you want. Wouldn't be the first cherry I popped in the car.”

“Dean-” Sam tried for something besides a gasp but that was all that manged to come out. His free hand disappeared behind Dean and Dean could _hear_ his digits rubbing slick and wet over his brother's cunt again, felt him start to squirm.

“That a yes? We can make it all special, whatever you need. Get you a nice prom dress, something tight, short, little slutty. Spike the punch, get you sloppy teenage drunk.” Dean had more to say, right on the tip of his tongue but he was having a hard time getting past Sam in a dress, squeezed into something utterly inappropriate. That'd end badly for both of them, probably, but Sam seemed to like it too. His eyes kept squeezing shut, little moans hitching out of his mouth, falling hot against Dean's cock. “Don't see tits like this in high school, though,” Dean muttered, slid out of Sam's tight cleavage and rubbed sticky trails all over his tits, taking his time, luxuriating in the soft skin he was marking up.

Sam was still writhing underneath him, all restless hips and his fingers rubbing hard over his pussy and Dean _would_ have told him to cool it, a bit, but he was lost watching his brother's lips glisten, thrusting his hips forward again to rub the head of his dick against that mouth.

“Maybe crash a wedding instead, huh, Sammy? Open bar, get you all loosened up and fuck you in the bathroom, in the coat check maybe. You know, you're such a good girl but with the wedding getting you all moist, the champagne tasting so good, and, well, _me_ , just can't say no, can you? Like that one?”

He must have, stuttering out Dean's name, curling his free hand around Dean's dick, stroking what he couldn't get his mouth down around. His tongue – god that _tongue_ – swirled hard circles, pressed down in all the right places until Dean was just groaning and panting, lost the plot completely against Sam's insistent mouth. He made it easier for Sammy, at least, threaded his fingers into his hair and shuffled forward so Sam could take more, but Sam pulled off with a gasp, eyes flaring open and squeezing shut again.

“Dean-Dean,” he moaned, rubbed his lips and his cheek against Dean's dick and Dean _felt_ him seizing up hard underneath.

He braced himself on the window, turned his head to watch Sam's hips snap up, _should_ have been annoyed but god, the noises, the vibrations of Sam keening against his dick, shit, he didn’t even care. Plus, he was pretty sure it'd be a false alarm from what he'd seen of Sam's technique, inexpert sliding, too rough and impatient. Still, it was fun to watch. He grabbed at Sam's jaw with his other hand, humped against his cheek. “Comin' for me already? Like hearing how I wanna pop you open, huh?”

Sam didn’t really _have_ words for that, clearly, something like _yes_ and _want_ twisting out of his mouth.

Dean didn't think Sam had it figured out yet, was still rubbing his dick against Sam's smooth face when his brother shouted, actually _shouted_ in that gravelly girl voice. Dean sort of gasped, made some noise that wasn't entirely manly and _goddammit_ , he was _pissed_. His fingers clutched harder at Sam's face, all scrunched up with obvious orgasm. “Aw, Sammy, really?”

Sam's eyes fluttered open, mouth slacked open and panting and he muttered something, maybe an apology even as he twitched under Dean. “Didn't mean to, I'm-”

Dean just grunted, though, no time for apologies since Sam would start shifting back to a dude within the minute. He thumbed Sam's mouth again and thrust in, balanced himself with a palm against the window. Down to the wire, now, and not that he had anything against Sam's dude-mouth either, but he wanted to mess up _this_ delicate looking face.

The face that was, apparently, staying smooth and stubble free, slight and gorgeous while he pumped into his tight, hot mouth and it was a minute, had to be at least a minute, and he was still a girl.

Dean slid back a little, popped his dick out of Sam's mouth – yep, still those full girlish lips, all blow job blown out – and let his dick rest heavy against his brother's cheek. “Huh. Sure you got off there, Sammy? Still looking awfully cute.”

Sam's brow creased, face flashing bitchy for a second. “Dude, I know what it feels like, I'm not stupid.”

“Yeah, but...” Dean frowned, lips pursing as he shuffled back down his brother's girl-body, gave his tits a cursory examination and another squeeze. “Still got these tits.” No idea how or why they hadn't disappeared but he wasn’t going to complain. Could be this was his last chance with Sam's tits, among other things.

Right.

Plan A was still go.

Sam wasn't expecting anything, clearly, zoned out from the orgasm or, Dean smirked, what he _thought_ was an orgasm. Couldn't have been, no matter what Sam said. Dean moved back further, wedged himself in between Sam's long legs and nuzzled his tits with his nose. Sam's chest rose with a sharp gasp, hands flying into Dean's hair, tugging when Dean opened his mouth wide and wet and intent on tracing every inch of the soft flesh in front of him before it disappeared.

Almost immediately, Sam started rocking his hips up into Dean, without thought at first but it got serious fast. Dean shifted, _had_ to move out of the way before Sam unknowingly impaled himself on his brother's dick and _that_ would be too much, much as he wanted it. Dean grunted and pressed a thigh down against Sam's grinding, flicked his tongue across Sam's hard nipple one last time and raised himself up, grinding back against the slippery heat jammed against him.

“See, still got this pussy too, don't you? Spell's not broken.”

Sam whined a little, probably the most girlish noise Dean heard him make, but his eyes flared with an angry spark. “I know I came, Dean, don't be an asshole.” But his expression softened easily when Dean ground against him again.

“Not finished though, are you? Cause I was gonna lick you till you came, see if I couldn't open you up on my fingers. But, hey, if you're done-”

“No, no,” Sam whined out again, hips rocking ceaselessly against his brother. He reached up with a long arm, cupped Dean's face, traced his lips with his fingers. “Want your mouth again, it's-it's so good.”

Dean swelled up proud, smirked a little and twirled his tongue around Sam's fingers. “Sound good askin' for it, Sammy.”

Sam's voice dropped to something more animal, mouth curved into that cruel little smirk. “Want to get my dick in your mouth one day, too.”

Dean sunk his teeth into his lip, caught one of Sam's fingers in it too and huffed out a quick breath. _That_ wasn't anything he'd thought about in any detail but, god, obviously Sam had. His dick, jammed up against Sam's hip, leaked again, obviously not a problem there either. Huh. Sam must have felt it, too, because he chuckled low in his throat – _god that low velvety voice was so hot_ – so Dean resolved to shut him up.

He practically growled as he slid back onto the seat, grabbed Sam's legs and rearranged him like a doll, draping one lean muscled thigh over the back of the seat and letting the other rest on his shoulder. Sam was wetter even than before, slicking up the seat and the tail of the dress shirt bunched up underneath him. Dean pressed a hard kiss against the back of Sam's thigh, followed up with a light bite that made Sam jump and wriggle but Dean gripped hard at the inside of his thighs. Dean held him in place and sucked at the skin he'd just nipped, didn't stop until he was sure Sam would welt up but good.

Sam was impatient, tugging at Dean's short hair and rolling his hips up as best he could but for once, Dean was able to keep him still, pinned down, and _that_ was a tasty little power trip. Dean hummed against his brother's skin, soft girl skin he was having no trouble getting used to, and took his agonizing time dragging his tongue wide against Sam's thighs, pressing against his shiny-wet lips with ridiculously chaste little kisses. It was _awful_ , taking his time, but it was worth it to hear Sam's breathy panting, to feel the sharp tug and the dig of his fingernails in Dean's scalp when he got close – so close – and then kissed away again.

Once Sam started practically chanting _please_ , though, Dean didn't want to keep control over the never ending shift of Sam's hips under his hands. He kept his fingers pressing into the soft skin, fingertips brushing against hipbones that only barely stood out and sunk his mouth down wide against Sam's cunt. Sam tried to jerk up right away, Dean felt it in the muscles he held taut and in the throbbing flex of sensitive flesh under his mouth. He flattened his tongue, pressed down and closed his lips tighter, trying to be mindful of any post-orgasm sensitivity Sam had going on.

Sam gasped but didn't pull away, did the exact opposite, tried to squirm his hips free of Dean's grasp and shove hard against his mouth, whining in frustration when he couldn't move.

Hard to say no to that.

Dean let one arm drop and the second Sam was free, he tightened his fingers in Dean's hair and humped rough up again Dean's face. And Dean was fucking glad his mouth was full and occupied, too busy for him to even moan, which was what he desperately wanted to do. Couldn't let Sam know he _ever_ had the upper hand, couldn’t let him know just how much he loved being smothered with pussy. But he let Sam steer for a bit, kept his mouth a tight pressure-less circle around Sam's stiff little clit and only pressed down flat with his tongue, no acrobatics. Not yet, not until Sam was begging, and even then he wasn't sure he'd give in this time.

But Sam, of course, knew. He always knew, somehow. “Like it when I fuck your face, huh?” Dean rolled his eyes up to meet his brother's smug face and as much as he wanted to look all aggressive, angry, defiant, he gave a little nod instead and dutifully pressed his mouth down harder against Sam.

Sam bucked up harder in kind, pounding little thrusts against his brothers mouth and huffing out short breaths. “Gonna fuck your face just like this with my dick, too, put it in so deep you'll be gagging on it, flat against me just like this. Bet you like that too, don't you?”

Dean couldn't honestly say, hadn't ever really gone that far with another dude but _that_ wasn't the point anyway: he had to shut Sam up. He was reaching back to his all important plan again, shifting his mouth just a little higher to make room for his hand. He trailed his index finger up and down Sam's opened up slit and wriggled in so easy from all the wetness. It was _tight_ , so definitely virgin tight and hot like a furnace and Sam stopped humping his face with a stuttered groan.

 _That shut him up_.

Almost. Sam managed a garbled little cry that sounded something like Dean's name, blinking down at his brother.

And Dean looked up, smirked against Sam's pussy, slid his finger out, in again, twisted and curled it up and Sam went boneless. The fingers knotted up in Dean's hair slacked loose against his skull and Sam wasn't making _any_ noise, apart from short hitching breaths. Dean felt his brother getting tighter around him – somehow – and knew he'd found the right place. _So easy_ , and he chuckled low, felt Sam's clit jerk at the rumble and he pressed down hard with his tongue all flat again. _God_ but he wanted _in there_ , wanted to shove Sam's knees up to his chest and drive in and make him fucking scream. Hard _not_ to think about slamming his dick into his brother when Dean was enjoying the cozy heat around his finger, the slick slide and Sam gone almost completely still. Something like surprise or shock and Dean dragged his mouth off, pressed a kiss against Sam's thigh.

“Okay, Sammy?”

It took a second, but Sam blinked owlishly, swollen mouth curling up into a lazy smile. “Yeah, yeah, it's just...it's a lot.”

“Mmm.” Dean grunted against Sam's soft skin, against the crease of his leg. He crooked his index finger inside again, pressed it against the spongy yield of Sam's g-spot in a slow slide and kissed his way back down. “Good, though?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered breathless, gnawed at his lip. “Yeah, whatever....whatever you're doing is, like...yeah.”

“Don't know?” Dean smirked up again, rubbed the pad of his finger up and down along the swelling flesh and swept his tongue around Sam's clit again in a slow drag. Sam swore – Dean thought that's what it was supposed to be, at least – and inched one of his limp hands up, closed it around a perfect breast and very pointedly licked his lips at Dean.

“Don't _care_ ,” Sam sighed out, “Just fucking hurry.”

Well then.

Usually that meant Dean would do the opposite; nine times out of ten, he'd back his mouth off, tease with his fingers while he said all kinds of awful things but he'd been patient enough – Sammy too – so he slid his finger out, bumped two against Sam's open cunt and looked up, eyebrows raised. “Want two?”

“Yes, _god_ ,” Sam moaned out immediately, hips starting their restless humping again. “Do what you did before, Dean, _please_.”

“Uh-huh,” Dean agreed, spilled hot breath against Sam's skin while he worked his fingers inside. God, two was a fucking squeeze. Sam gasped so pretty, head thrown back against the car door. Dean jostled that bumpy flesh inside again and his brother's head snapped up, eyes wide and alight. “G-spot, Sammy,” Dean informed him, fingers curved every so slightly towards himself. “Like it, huh?”

Sam just nodded, kind of half-hearted, and his head fell back again. God, that was a view, all long lean neck, whisps of hair here and there and one of Sam's hands closed around a tit and the ghosts of abs clenching on the flat plane of his stomach as his hips worked to grind his pussy against Dean's mouth again.

Dean had to close his eyes a second, shifted his weight around until his dick jammed against one of Sam's long legs. That was a bit better, at least, warmer than being trapped against the car's increasingly sticky seats. He was throbbing, aching and drooling and Sam obviously liked that, moaned and pressed his leg harder against Dean's dick. That could have done it, if Dean really let go, if Dean humped his brother's leg like a fucking dog but no, already too much smug satisfaction from Sam to give in to that. He'd never hear the end of it.

_Alright, endgame._

Sam was still unnervingly quiet, all gasps, until Dean slid his fingers out, straightened them and pushed back in as far as he could. Sam whined like, well, like a girl, free hand diving down, clutching Dean's scalp so hard his nails bit in. Dean jammed his mouth down wide while his tongue traced the ridge above Sam's clit, then rubbed mercilessly from one side to the other, firm and knowing. Dean was barely moving his fingers, slipping slow in and out because Sam was just too damned tight around him for anything else. He was getting tighter too, with every pass of Dean's tongue, every dragging thrust sending his pussy fluttering around Dean's fingers.

And Sam tightened _everywhere_ , every muscle taut with strain, hips bucked up and off the seat and humping in tiny, furious movements against Dean's face, fucking himself on Dean's fingers. Dean dragged a hand up, spanned it across Sam's stomach just to feel his abs contracting. _So close_ , so easy to tell and Dean pressed just a little more firm with his tongue, ran it side to side on Sam's hard clit, practically leaping, throbbing under his mouth. Sam swore relentlessly above him, peppering it with his brother's name until he couldn't anymore, mouth slacked wide open, entirely useless.

Dean felt Sam's whole body lurch as he came, hips jammed up against his face and shaking, the hot insides of his brother's cunt melting and grasping as a new surge of wetness coated his fingers. He didn't stop moving them, though, pushing through the tight contractions. He pressed his tongue firm and flat against Sam's clit, felt it throb and he moaned loud and Sam gasped and jerked away at last. He was still shaking, still squeezing like a heartbeat around his brother's slicked up fingers. Dean pulled his mouth away and bit into Sam's thigh again, palmed the quivering muscles and finally wrenched his fingers free.

Everything happened really fast after that; Dean was wiping his mouth off with his forearm and contemplating his sticky fingers when the front seat of the car suddenly got _really_ crowded. And Sam suddenly got _way_ strong again, big hands grasping at Dean, tugging him forward as Sam slid upright. He unlatched the door with one hand and pulled Dean by the shoulder to the edge of the seat.

“What-” Dean started, wanted to ask what the hell was going on but Sam tumbled out of the car, shrugged off his shirt and knelt on the ground. Right in front of Dean. Shit, that looked good, better than it should have with the curse worn off but there was time to deal with that can of worms later, when Sam wasn't looking up at him all flushed, when Sam wasn't sliding his hands – Christ _he had big hands_ – up Dean's legs and following up with his mouth.

 _That mouth, fuck_. Dean watched it, felt it slide up his thigh all hot and wet and zero hesitation in sinking down tight around Dean's dick. Dean didn't even try to still himself; he thrust in sharp and fisted Sam's hair with one hand and then both because Sam wasn't trying to stop him either, Sam was pushing against Dean, relaxing his throat, huffing out a breath though his nose and _Jesus_ _where the fuck did he learn that?_

Sam's eyes were smiling since his mouth was too goddamned busy, pressed tight up against Dean's torso, and Dean couldn’t stop staring, couldn't control himself either, probably grabbing too hard at Sam's hair, probably rutting his face a little too hard but Sam wasn't complaining. If anything, Sam seemed to be enjoying it, egging Dean on with his fucking expression alone, with his hand pushing Dean's thighs apart and grabbing his balls.

It was so easy, Dean was embarrassed; just one fucking tug and he was arching up off the seat, fully ensconced in his brother's throat and coming so hard he bit his lip, so fast and surprising he couldn't even get out the usual string of dirty words he liked to use in these situations. Sam swallowed so easily, throat bobbing perfect tightness around Dean's dick. Dean was all wide-eyes and white knuckles, Sam huffing out hot breath against the flat plane of his stomach but staying put otherwise. His thumb rolled around Dean's sack casually and Dean jumped, relaxed his grip on Sam's hair, regained something of his senses.

“Jesus fuck,” Dean muttered, raked a hand through his hair and blinked stupid. Sam slid off with a grin and a satisfied noise, nuzzled at Dean's thigh and stood up. He stretched, totally naked in a fucking parking lot and Dean was just staring again, blinking and staring and, “Sammy, _seriously_?”

Sam shrugged, picked his shirt up off the dirt, opened the back door and rummaged around for something decent to wear. “What?”

Dean puffed out a laboured breath, shook his head and wrestled his pants back up. Nothing to say, possibly ever again.

Sam got dressed entirely too casually, leaning against the hood of the car when he was finished. “So, that's twice now.”

“Hmm?” Dean finally got up, popped his back and found a shirt in the back that wasn't covered in Sam's girl-jizz.

“The curse. Maybe we read it wrong.”

“Yeah, I dunno, it was pretty clear.” Dean folded his arms, leaned down next to Sam and at least _tried_ not to stare, but Christ, what other magical things could Sam do that he had no idea about?

“It took two that time, though.”

“Yeah, you didn't come the first time, I'm telling you.”

Sam rolled his eyes, nudged Dean hard with his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“So, uh...”

“College.”

“Jeez. I mean most girls can't even-”

“I don't think I _could_ have in the girl body, it's all...”

“Tight,” Dean finished, eyebrow raised and mind wandering, already. “Think it's gonna happen again?”

“No idea.”

“Should buy some, you know, girl clothes just in case.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam rolled his eyes again, pushed off the car and went to get inside. He swore, ducked his head back out and smiled crooked at Dean. “Someone made a mess of your baby.”

“For once, I am totally okay with that, Sammy.”

“Not even gonna make me clean it up?”

“Naw,” Dean smiled to himself, walking around to the driver's side. “Maybe next time.”

 

 


End file.
